


Death's Reaper

by BluKoffee



Category: No Country for Old Men (2007)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Don't Ask Too Many Questions, Don't piss him off, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing with these tags, Pls don't kill me, but don't push your luck, but he has feels, but he still has sense of humor, but still dangerous, don't get in his way, has soft moments, he has a mission, he kill people, it might be very twisted, might kill, might not kill, soft Anton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26841634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluKoffee/pseuds/BluKoffee
Summary: A young woman stumbles upon a man who has become as feared as the Reaper himself. Through various circumstances, she finds herself swept along with him on his hunt for stolen wealth, but will she survive the cold chill of Death that follows wherever he goes?
Relationships: Anton Chigurh/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	Death's Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> *laughs nervously* Sooo, I swore to myself that I would never write for Anton. I adore Javier Bardem, and Anton is a very fascinating and spectacularly-portrayed character, but so so difficult to put into words, and I promised myself that I was never going to touch that with a fifty-foot pole.
> 
> And here we are. With this...thing. I wrote it in almost one complete go, with almost no editing, and still have zero clue where the heckin' left field it came from, but I'm glad it did. Even if it does scare me a little.
> 
> Anyway, for anyone who stumbles upon this, I hope you enjoy, and please be kind. No need for kudos and comments if you don't want, feel free to ghost through. ^.^

"I wouldn't do that."

She dropped the wire with a gasp, whirling around to see the most intimidating man she'd ever seen looking behind her.

It was dark, the street light poorly illuminating his features, but she could make out enough to know this wasn't an individual to be messed with on any level.

His posture wasn't menacing, merely alert, and he had no visible weapons in his hands, simply a plastic bag from the gas station.

That didn't stop her instincts from screaming that she was in more danger than even before she had made a run for it.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, backing away from the car with her hands held up in front of her in a gesture of surrender.

The man made no move towards her.

She continued to back away, the man watching her with cold eyes that felt alien in their lack of humanity.

Once she was past the fence that enclosed the dumpster, she turned and ran, disappearing into the cloister of trees.

Stubs scratched her feet and branches bloodied her ankles. Hunger clawed at her stomach, but she had no thought other than simply getting as far away from that man as she could.

~

The sun beat down on her back. She could feel it burning her skin through the thin cotton of her shirt, through the thick strands of her hair. Her entire back was too warm, sweat having long since stopped rolling down her spine.

She knew that was a bad sign, along with the thickening pulsing in her skull.

She was severely dehydrated, but what could she do? There was no water around, not even a trickling ditch, though that might kill her as quickly as the sun would.

She had no choice.

She kept walking.

~

Distantly, a noise penetrated her haze, a dull drone that steadily grew louder.

It took several minutes before her mind registered it as an engine, approaching from behind.

_Car._

Cars brought bad men.

Stumbling, she moved from the asphalt to the less solid sandy ground, dimly hoping the car would roll on by, the driver being perfectly selfish and uncaring of the woman staggering along the side of the road.

Her luck had finally run out.

The car decelerated, rolling to a stop slightly in front of her.

She came to a halt, her body swaying without the stimulus of movement. She kept her head down, staring at the tan blur of sand before her, fuzzily focusing on a small patch of scrub between her toes.

A car door opened.

"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"

She didn't answer. She knew better than to answer. To answer would only bring more questions. Questions she couldn't answer.

"Miss?"

The man asking her too many questions moved closer, boots crunching in the sand.

She swayed more, wanting to keep moving, but knowing she would merely be halted.

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

A large hand gripped her arm, palm clammy and cool from the a/c of the car.

"Miss, I'm gonna need you to come with me."

She wanted to sigh, but simply didn't have the energy. It could be laughable, really. She'd made it this far, only to be waylaid by a good Samaritan.

Hopefully he wouldn't die for his troubles.

She was spurred into movement, the hand on her arm gentle but firm as it led her towards the running car.

"Here ya go now, watch your head."

Another hand opened the door to the back seat and then gently pushed down on her head, forcing her to duck as she almost fell into the car, her legs weakened to the point of giving way.

"Here, this is water."

Water. _Water_.

She could smell it.

A open bottle was placed in her hands. She knew better than to gulp the whole thing, though every instinct screamed for it.

Raising the bottle with both trembling limbs, she took careful sips, barely holding back the whimper of relief when the cool liquid washed over her sandy tongue.

"Good girl. When you're done, wait a few minutes, and then I'll give you more, okay?"

The man stepped back from where he'd been blocking the open door, carefully shutting it as he did.

That was when she noticed the grate between the front and back seat.

A police car.

The second worst place she could possibly be.

The man had signed his death warrant the moment he'd taken his foot off the gas, and he didn't even know it.

Delicately, she replaced the lid on the bottle, keeping her gaze downturned.

The car rocked as the policeman slid into his seat in the front, peering at her in his rearview mirror.

"You got a name, miss?"

He was polite, she'd give him that. She felt bad for him. His voice was kind.

"Where are your folks?"

Oh, if only he knew. He'd never have stopped, even if he was a cop.

"I'm gonna take you to the station, okay? Get you cleaned up some, make a few phone calls. How's that sound?"

She would have asked him to turn her loose, but she knew that would never happen. It never did. They always gently steered her back to wherever they wanted her to go, firmly prevented her attempts to leave, blocked her from continuing onwards before the darkness caught up with her.

And it always did. Blood and bodies trailed in her wake like one of the Four Horsemen.

Today, she felt as if it were Famine following her. Her stomach had long ago since gave up protesting the lack of food, the few sips of water causing the muscled organ to cramp at the sudden influx, but didn't force it back up her throat, for which she was grateful.

The car clicked into gear and smoothly pulled from the roadside, rolling back onto the highway and gradually accelerated.

Famine might walk beside her for now, but Death was never far behind his sister.

~

She didn't notice the man as he was seated next to her, handcuffed as well.

She didn't hear the policeman that had picked her up be ushered out of the building, told to go home to his wife and their new baby, that he shouldn't be in on his day off.

The other officer calling his chief, telling of the strange man he'd brought in never registered in the dull fog of her mind.

It dimly penetrated when the man next to her rose from the bench, looking menacingly like one of Death's Reapers.

She blinked, coming out of her trance just in time to see the black-garbed man drop his handcuffed arms around the policeman's neck, choking him.

The man threw himself backwards to the floor, pulling the cop with him to use his bodyweight for added leverage.

She merely watched as the cop struggled for air, wheezing and gasping.

Boots squeaked as they frantically slid against the linoleum, scrambling for purchase.

There was a horrible wet sound and the man in black turned his head to the side as blood splurted from the officer's neck, the handcuffs cutting into the flesh.

Finally, the frantic, jerky movements grew slower, until they stopped altogether.

The man on the floor was breathing hard, but got it under control with a few deep breaths.

He'd killed before. He was very good at it.

Yet she knew she was in no danger from him. Not unless she drew his attention.

The man sat up, unclipping the cop's keys and sliding out from under the body to roll to his feet in a smooth motion.

He was tall, six feet, and garbed almost entirely in black.

Perhaps he was indeed one of Death's Reapers, after what she had just witnessed.

Black eyes cut to where she sat, and with a start, she realized she recognized his face.

It was the man from the parking lot.

The dangerous one.

Dark hair framed his face in a memorably distasteful cut, but his features were strong and well-formed, reticent of a Spanish lineage. He would have been handsome, had he had any mammalian warmth to his eyes.

He stared back, assessing her equally as thoroughly, if not more so, then stepped past her towards the bathroom in the back of the station.

She pondered what to do. Run? Stay and smell the stench of Death?

Her stomach squeezed painfully, reminding her that two bottles of water was not nearly enough to appease Famine.

She stared at the spray of black marks on the floor, wondering if they would ever be completely removed from the slick surface. It was a very morbid display. It would probably be something talked about in this town for decades to come.

Small towns were like that.

She heard bootsteps steadily clicking behind her as the man in black exited the bathroom, walking past her and towards the body, stepping neatly over it to retrieve the strange tank that had been sitting in the chair next to the policeman's desk.

So. Stay then. It didn't truly matter, anyway. She had actions she could take in either likelihood.

The man picked up the tank, the hose attached making the metal ring softly as it clanked against it.

His footsteps clicked on linoleum again, this time moving towards her.

She kept her gaze down, even as black-clad legs stopped right in front of her.

Silence weighed down on her sunburned shoulders, making her look up into obsidian eyes.

There had been in a shark in an aquarium, a long time ago, that looked at her with eyes like those.

There was a jingle, and she looked down to realize that he was holding out the keys to her.

"Come."

~

She honestly didn't know what surprised her more. That the man had taken her with him, that he hadn't spoken to her since that single word, or that he was going the direction she wanted to be going in.

Exhaustion swept through her in a wave, making her eyes shut on their own accord.

The man was a smooth driver, not speeding or driving erratically. If it weren't for the fact that they were riding in a stolen squad car, she would have let herself fall asleep.

As it was, she forced her eyes open, not allowing sleep to claim her when there was yet still a chance she would need to run.

The man had tucked the oxygen tank next to her thigh, with a meaningful glance that she not touch it.

She had no desire to.

It was Death's tool, elegant and effective, if not very efficient.

She would need sustenance soon. Her body couldn't continue using great bursts of energy on only water. Perhaps when he decided to stop, she would continue her own way.

Why had he taken her with him?

She glanced at his profile, watching him focus on the road for a second, before looking away.

Perhaps even he himself didn't know.

He suddenly stepped off the gas slightly and she blinked, coming alert.

A car was in front of them.

Reaching to the console, the man sounded the siren once, twice.

She glanced over at him, wondering what he was up to. Why was he attracting more attention?

The car in front of them slowed and he slowed to match it, pulling off the side of the road.

Turning off the car, he reached down and pulled his weapon from where it sat next to her leg.

She understood his intentions then, but not the reason for them. What would he gain-

Oh. A different car. Surely there was a less deadly way to obtain a new car?

Perhaps there wasn't. It wasn't like they had passed any other cars, even parked, before this one.

She looked down to her lap. She had no wish to see Death's Reaper in action again.

The sound of an engine turning over caught her attention and she lifted her head.

The man had taken place in the driver's seat of the other car, engine idling as he waited.

For her?

That was disconcerting. Why was he allowing her to continue onwards with him? He was not a man she felt traveled often with company, for whatever reason.

Nonetheless, he was waiting.

She had no wish to make him impatient, but neither did she wish to be there when his patience ran out.

Opening the door, she clambered out of the patrol car, legs barely holding her weight, and walked up to the passenger door.

Leaning down, she spoke into the open window. "Thank you, but I'm going my own way."

Straightening, she hadn't even taken a step before she heard, "Get in."

The unyielding steel of the command, undisguised by the softness of his voice and the lilt of an accent, froze her in place.

For some unnamable reason, it seemed he wanted her to keep traveling with him.

Why?

The man didn't repeat himself, simply waited. Icy patience seemed to roll from the open window like a low fog. A good quality to have in one of Death's Reapers, patience.

Determination as well.

She somehow knew he'd simply force her into the car if she tried to keep walking.

Clenching her jaw, she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The thick, cloying smell of tobacco immediately clogged her nose.

He waited until she closed the door before stepping on the gas and smoothly accelerated onto the highway, leaving behind an abandoned patrol car and a body, already cooking in the sun.

~

Something was placed lightly on her thigh, startling her awake.

She inhaled, eyes snapping open as she took stock of her surroundings.

The car pulled onto the highway, accelerating easily.

She glanced back and saw a gas station steadily growing smaller in the dust.

Looking down, she saw a packet of peanuts perched on her thigh.

She lifted her head, her gaze flicking to the man sitting next to her.

He swallowed his mouthful of water, twisted the cap back on the bottle with slow, precise movements, then held out the bottle to her, his eyes never once leaving the road.

Her stomach clenched in painful reminder.

Taking the bottle, careful not to touch his fingers, she untwisted the cap and hurriedly gulped down the sweet liquid.

The man had only taken a few swallows before giving it to her, leaving just shy of the full bottle.

She drank almost all of it in one go.

Replacing the cap, she tore into the peanuts, ravenously inhaling them, and had to force herself to stop before she licked the salt off the wrapper.

Famine wasn't yet pleased, evidenced by internal muscles squeezing to tell her that more food would be necessary. Soon.

Ignoring the warning, she finished off the water, tucking the trash under her feet.

"Thank you."

Silence was her only response.

~

When she next awoke, it was dark, and the man was pulling off the road towards a gated opening in a barbed fence. Another vehicle was parked mere feet away as he pulled to a stop.

"Stay."

The man got out of the car, leaving behind his weapon.

He would come back.

Another man got out of the other vehicle, an SUV, and said something to the man in black.

He ignored whatever was said and slid into the middle seat of the SUV, the other man getting in next to him after a curious glance her way, then they drove off.

She had no idea what they were here for, or where they were going, but she could smell the blood that had soaked into War's robes.

Whatever had happened here, Death had come to pick up the pieces.

She pondered. Stay? Or go?

The man in black wouldn't follow her, wherever she went. He wouldn't waste his time nor his energy.

But if he passed her walking on the highway, and it was a fifty-fifty chance he would, she doubted he'd be pleased.

The choice remained.

Stay. Or go.

She decided to stay. At least until he stopped somewhere more populated.

Shifting further down into the seat to make her presence less conspicuous, she settled down to wait.

~

It wasn't long at all before the SUV returned, this time with only one occupant.

She could only make out a faint shape past the glare of the headlights, but the looming presence of Death told her who it was.

And what had occurred to the other men.

He pulled up beside the car and got out, leaving the engine idling. He opened the driver door of the car to lean in and retrieve his weapon.

Those cold eyes settled on her for a brief moment. "Get in the truck."

Not going to question the order, she exited the car, her left knee giving way once before she made it to the other vehicle.

Looking back, she watched him fiddle with something in the other car, then clambered into the truck, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering stench of pungent cologne.

It was then that she realized that the man in black didn't smell like the usual strong scents of men she'd met, stinking of alcohol and sweat, tobacco and cologne.

He had a pleasant smell, a woodsy musk mixed with jean cloth and several layers of other intricate scents that were pleasant to the nose.

For one of Death's Reapers, he smelled surprisingly nice.

She wondered if he'd be too handsome if his hair was cut differently, and that was why he had that haircut.

_What is wrong with me?_

A sudden muffled fwoosh made her jump, startled by the flare of bright light.

Orange flames licked from the interior of the car, engulfing the vehicle in heat.

The man opened the driver's door of the truck and climbed in, settling the tank in the usual place by her thigh.

She wondered why he did that, instead of setting it closer to himself. It was still well within his reach, his long arms proportioned to his lean body, but it seemed strange to her that he was willing to keep it so close to another person.

He gunned the engine and rolled onto the highway, accelerating into the darkness once more.

She was glad to have left War behind.

~

Dawn lightened the sky, bringing pain to her burned skin where it rubbed against the seat. The numbness had faded, leaving behind stinging and aching.

Houses began to grow more and more plentiful, the further he drove.

She has no idea what he was looking for, and didn't dare ask. He was fixated on something, that patient determination making his eyes gleam with cold purpose.

What kind of purpose would a man like him have? What kind of job did he have to while away his time, keep him from growing bored?

Something else she knew better than to ask.

A little device sat next to him on the seat. After setting it there, next to a rather large gun, he had completely ignored it.

She assumed that it had some kind of noise to indicate whatever it was for.

Unexpectedly, he began to slow down, turning off the road into a small parking lot in front of a diner.

Confused, she watched as he parked, then turned off the engine.

"Come."

Food? But she had no money, nothing to pay him back with. She had nothing on her but the clothes on her back-

As if sensing her reluctance, he walked around and opened her door, stepping back so she could exit the vehicle.

His expression hadn't changed more than a slight quirk of one brow, but it was enough to know what he was saying.

_Do I need to force you?_

Reluctantly, she slid from the seat to the ground, skittering backwards when she found herself suddenly too close to the black-clad form.

"Come."

Warily, uncertain of this new change, she followed along behind him, not even feeling the rough asphalt on her feet.

The diner was quiet, only one other table occupied. The waitress indicated for them to seat themselves after a curious look, and the man picked a booth to sit in.

She slipped in across from him, careful to keep her gaze lowered.

A menu slid in front of her.

"Pick what you want."

Surprised, she couldn't stop herself from looking up, becoming ensnared in icy obsidian eyes.

He held her gaze for a long second, then focused on his own menu.

"What can I get ya, loves?"

She twitched, startled by the sudden appearance of the waitress at their table.

The man's voice was smooth and even as he quietly ordered.

There was a pause, then she realized it was her turn to order.

"Uhm, grilled cheese, please. Water."

"Coming right up!"

She swallowed, suddenly struck with the insanity of something so normal as sitting in a diner, completely incongruent with the rest of her situation.

"I'll be right back."

She scooted out of the booth, the linoleum almost painfully cold against her feet as she walked to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind her, she exhaled deeply, wondering what to do. Where to go. She couldn't stay with the man in black, not for much longer. He had been patient so far, alarmingly so, but whatever he was here for was beginning to make itself known.

She would ask him to let her leave after they ate.

Walking over to the sink, she wetted some paper towels and began wiping the dried blood and dirt from her feet.

Scratches marred her skin all the way to mid-calf. Her pants were torn, but still serviceable. Shirt was dirty, but it was difficult to see on the grey/blue patterned plaid.

She dampened some more towels and wiped off her face, wishing she had something for the painful stretch of sunburned skin.

Washing her hands and rubbing the dirt off her arms, she felt a great deal better than before. And didn't look quite so much like roadkill.

The man didn't look up from his meal when she slid back into her seat. She didn't know what he was eating, but he seemed to like it as he continued to polish it off.

Either that, or he just didn't care, so long as it was edible.

The grilled cheese was good, crunchy the way she preferred.

They ate in silence, each not wanting to waste energy by talking yet.

But all too soon, there was nothing left but empty plates in front of them.

The meager meal sat heavily in her stomach, but it silenced the hunger that had been clawing at her ribs.

Working up her courage, she played with the edge of her napkin as he finished off his drink.

"What do you want to know?"

The question caught her off guard and she lifted her head to see him watching her.

She didn't mistake the friendly opening for anything of the kind. One wrong word and all his tolerance so far would mean nothing.

She chewed her lip for a second, searching for the right words, then asked quietly, "You are…hunting?"

The tense silence that stretched across the table was too long before he finally answered.

"Yes."

She breathed out sharply, then nodded. She understood hunting as his purpose. And really, it was a good purpose for him. He was a patient hunter, a pursuit predator.

And he was doing a particularly specialized version of pursuit, one of the most terrifying kinds.

Persistence hunting.

She had no more questions. None that were pertinent, anyway, to risk her life over.

The man, however, did.

"What do you run from?"

Surprised, she twitched, not having expected such a blatant interrogation.

It took her a second to gather a suitably non-descript answer.

"…bad men."

He hummed, a sound that indicated he understood, but would have preferred her to elaborate.

Her grip tightened on the fork before she said, "I would like to leave."

A beat passed before he asked blithely, "And go where?"

In any other man, the tone would have sounded almost playful. But she heard the threatening undercurrent of steel in that smooth baritone.

His accent liquefied his words, making her wonder where he came from.

"Away. I can't follow you everywhere."

He made a noise of understanding, then nodded. "No, you cannot."

She chewed her lip, wanting to go, but torn to stay. When had she started wanting to stay?

"How far behind are they? The bad men?"

His voice was so soft, so deep, but she felt as if ice was settling into her bones each time he spoke.

"I don't know. A few days, maybe four. Most likely closer."

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about what would happen if they caught up with her.

She didn't want to leave, because she knew that if she did, she was no longer safe.

At least the man in black was brutally honest, if with a fairly deep learning curve when it came to interacting with him.

"What will do you, if you leave?"

She inhaled deeply through her nose and sat back against the booth, ignoring when her burned skin painfully protested. "Run. Keep running, until they stop."

"And if they never stop?"

She raised her eyes to his, steadily meeting the cold onyx glittering back at her. "Then I'll keep running."

He stared back for a moment, as if searching for something else, then rose suddenly, pulling out a billfold and dropping the money to cover their food.

"If you are going to run, you will need shoes."

~

"Why?"

The man in black stared at her evenly.

"Why?"

She shifted uncomfortably when he repeated her question, then dropped her gaze down to the new sneakers protecting her feet.

"Why are you helping me?"

He inhaled deeply through his nose, never once looking away from her.

She could feel his gaze centered on her, unwavering in his focus. It was eerie, having those shark eyes locked on her. It was unnerving, to feel as his prey must.

"Do not ask me that again."

She jerked back in response to the icy edge to his tone, stronger than usual. "Sorry. I won't."

_Don't look gift horses in the mouth._

They drove in silence for a few miles before the device suddenly beeped.

Surprised, she looked down at it, then up to see the man had done the same and was peering past her out her window.

She sat back into the seat to not hinder with his line of vision, wondering again what he was searching for, but knew it wouldn't matter. He would find it.

The beeps continued, growing steadily faster as they drew closer to a motel approaching. Decelerating, he turned into the parking lot, those onyx eyes fixed on the windows as he slowly drove by, circling around the buildings.

The beeping grew ever faster as he passed by the doors, then abruptly began to slow. He stopped, then backed up, the beeps coming faster than ever as he stopped in front of one of the rooms.

 _138_ , she read on the door.

She turned to look at the man in black. He stared at the door for a moment before driving onwards.

He’d located his prey. The beeps grew slower as the room grew further behind them.

Not wanting to gain his attention again, she remained silent, figuring he knew what he was doing.

The presence of Death grew stronger.

~

He pulled up to the lobby and parked. She watched as he turned off the engine and got out, walking around to enter the lobby. The attendant was an old woman.

She watched through the window until he walked back outside again and climbed back in, turned the truck back on, and smoothly pulled away.

The longer they were here, the more nervous she grew. She didn’t want to ask questions, but she needed to know if she should run.

The man in black pulled up to one of the rooms, parked the truck, then turned off the engine.

Tension stiffened her muscles as darkness flooded the interior, masking the man in shadow. A lone streetlight poorly illuminated one side of his face.

Was he finally going to act like every other man she'd dared to trust?

Instead of reaching for her, he pulled something out of his pocket, and held it flat in his palm.

A quarter.

She looked at him quizzically. He wasn't giving it to her, that much she knew. But what did he want?

His eyes were steady as he focused solely on her.

"Call it."

She tilted her head. Call the quarter? "Why."

He shifted, as if uncomfortable with the question. "It doesn't matter why, just call it."

"It does matter why. I'm not calling heads if that involves me kissing the end of that bolt pistol."

Instead of seeming irritated, he chuffed a soft laugh, but it was an unsettling, unnatural display of humor, like the Cheshire Cat's smile.

"Call it."

She mulishly stared back, trying to match his staid expression as he gazed back evenly.

Finally, she sighed. At least if he did kill her, it would be quick and painless. And she wouldn't have to worry about running anymore. "Fine. Tails."

He perked up, seeming pleased she was cooperating in his game. With an expert flick, he sent the quarter sailing upwards, then caught it and slapped it down over the back of his other hand.

Looking at the coin, he smiled slightly, a mere quirk of his lips, but it was enough.

_Good or bad?_

"Tails. Good." He lifted his head, still smiling that unnatural smile. "Get out."

She blinked. "What?"

The inhuman grin vanished from his face. "Get out."

Struggling not to feel oddly hurt, she scrambled to get out of the truck, before he decided she was worth the effort of picking up his weapon and aiming it at her.

She quickly closed the door, backing away hurriedly. The sudden sound of his voice froze her.

"I will find you when I am done. Only run if you must. Understand?"

She shook her head slightly, uncertain if she'd heard him correctly. "You want me to wait?"

"Yes."

She inhaled sharply. That odd twinge of hurt eased. "I understand."

He got out of the truck, pulling a black duffle bag from the back seat, and didn’t even look her way as he walked up towards the room he’d picked.

Sucking in a deep breath, she turned around and walked off into the darkness, wondering when a man in black had almost seemed to become a friendly face.

~

She’d begun to give up on ever seeing him again. She figured whoever he'd been hunting had been too wily of prey.

War's robes were drenched with blood, leaving a trail of red in his wake, and Death was a grim shadow.

The men had caught up with her this morning, and had been taken by surprise with the sawed off shotgun she'd acquired while she was waiting.

Unfortunately, she'd only gotten two, before the third one had made a run for it.

They'd be back. With more men.

It was time to go.

She felt reluctant to leave, but knew she could no longer afford to wait.

The man in black wasn't coming.

~

She didn’t even know where she was. She’d hitchhiked, bargained, and walked her way to wherever was here. Somehow, she’d wound up in a fairly suburban neighborhood. It was a decent place.

The family with three cars in their driveway wouldn’t miss one if she borrowed it for a while. She needed a faster mode of transportation, and they seemed well-to-do. She’d do her best to drop it somewhere nice, without damaging it.

She left the windows rolled down, enjoying the feel of the breeze on her face. The faint sound of sirens wailed in the distance, but she ignored them. They weren’t after her just yet.

She kept driving, humming along softly to the radio. Famine hadn’t visited her in a long while, War was busy far away elsewhere, she had never had a brush with Disease…

But Death was riding in her backseat.

She couldn’t figure out why, when suddenly she saw a familiar figure limping down the sidewalk.

A man in black.

Her heart beat faster.

She pulled up to a stop next to the man.

It was her Reaper. And he was injured. “Get in.”

He paused for a second, blood trickling down his face, his arm held in a makeshift sling, and he seemed slightly dazed. She guessed he was involved with whatever had to do with the nearing sirens.

“I thought I told you to wait.”

She shrugged as he opened the door with his free hand. “You also told me to run if I had to. I had to. And here we are. Hospital?”

“Pharmacy.”

She side-eyed the chunk of bone sticking out through his skin and inhaled through her nose, but didn’t argue.

“Pharmacy it is.”

Silence filled the car as she pulled away from the curb, punctuated by soft pants of pain, but the man in black was silent other than that.

She scrunched her nose, then said softly, “Can I ask you something?”

A beat passed and she heard him swallow painfully. She wished she had water to offer him. She wished she had something for his pain.

“Yes.”

"What was tails?" She'd been unable to figure out what it was, even though she'd tried, constantly. Letting her live had seemed too simple an answer, but perhaps that's all it had been.

He took a deep, slow breath.

"I take you with me."


End file.
